


Forever Your Shadow

by TheBarghestsNotebook



Series: I am the Drug and You are my Addict [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, F/M, Masturbation, Stalker!Reader, Sub!Bucky, Voyeurism, dom!reader, sub!Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 23:01:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12095322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBarghestsNotebook/pseuds/TheBarghestsNotebook
Summary: Just because the Winter Soldier thinks she's dead doesn't mean the Reader doesn't follow him. How else can she know that her property is safe and taken care of?





	1. Addicts Anonymous

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the absence, work got hectic. Now that I'm free, there should be a fic dump at some point soon. Also, I would like to thank Fall Out Boy's new song "The Last of the Real Ones" for inspiring Chapter 2.

To stand behind the man I once worked with and know that he was someone completely different was surreal. James Buchanan Barnes stood in front of his own memorial at the museum, trying to understand who he was. I stood far behind him, lost in the crowd, hidden from view and feeling. Not even my power reached out to him, though my influence still twisted through his veins. But the man I loved was no longer there. He had been shattered the moment the Winter Soldier realized that he was someone completely different. The one who stood there was so lost and confused now. A stranger in a strange land. I could still feel the man I loved under the surface, I knew he would never disappear. I could speak the words and bring him back to me. I didn’t even have to speak to bring him back to me. Just merely reaching out to me would cause him to come crawling back like the addict he was. Begging to be with me again, doing whatever he could to never leave my side again.

But not now. Now this new man had to figure out who he was. Had to figure out who he wanted to be. I could easily make him into who I wanted him to be, but would he be willing? Would he let himself be taken over like so many times before?

There were questions that I wanted answers to but I wouldn’t let myself become impatient. If he wanted me, if he truly wanted me, he would listen to that feeling in the back of his head. He would find me once again. No matter what. It did not matter that he believed he had killed me. He would find me if he truly wanted to. If he still craved me. If he was still my addict.

I turned to leave, making my way out of the exhibit. For him to come willingly would be a great pleasure. I would welcome him with open arms and soft words. I would take him once again. And I would make him mine once more.


	2. Imagination Exhibition

Most every man has his needs, even super soldiers. And even if they didn’t think they could, all it took was a little push. A run down apartment, plain, inconspicuous, in a corner of the world you wouldn’t think to check. My dear soldier leaned on the sink, looking at himself in the mirror, trying to see just what wasn’t there. Trying to remember. He bent his head forward, a shiver running down his spine. He was for sure that he was alone. There was no one standing invisible behind him. I leaned forward and hummed into his ear. His hips move forward, rolling against the counter. I ghosted a kiss over his shoulders, never touching him but letting him imagine it. His head rolled to the side, exposing the neck that he so desperately wished had a hand around. I stood behind him, letting him pretend there was something there, something to rub against. But all he had was air and the counter. My dear soldier’s cock already straining against his pants, he rolled and rubbed and humped the counter in front of him. Any sort of friction, any sort of attempt at recreating the dreams of destroyed memories in the back of his mind.

I watched him grind in an attempt to get himself off. I listened to his soft moans. What images filled his head? Who was he preforming for? Who made the “For you, ma’am” leave his lips so softly and breathlessly?

He shoved his hand down his pants, palming at himself. He let out a hiss, his eyes rolling, before tearing out of the bathroom to his bed. Something stopped him in the middle of the room. I wanted to watch him more. I wanted him to pretend that there was someone watching him. I wanted him to dance for me. And dance he did. Slow and languid, rolling his body as he undressed himself. Eyes closed, he imagined his audience, imagined a lover, a master, goading him on. Silent music that played in his mind, music only he really knew. Music that kept him going, kept him moving and stripping. Music that made him harder and harder, music that he could dance to and show off his body to only one.

I whispered into his ears, I hummed sweet words, soft commands, lewd praises. He needed it all, wanted it all. My dear soldier sank to his knees, completely naked. More whispers, more teases. He humped the ground, wanting nothing more than to be inside someone. To be inside of that person who skirted the edges of his dreams. He grinded and rubbed, mewls falling from his mouth. Begging and pleading, his cries for his owner. 

“Please, ma’am,” he groaned. “I’ve been a good boy, I promise. Ma’am, please. Please, ma’am. Please.”

I knelt down and ghosted my hand over his cock, guiding his hand over it. He pumped and palmed, following my motions. A puppet on my strings. Such a good puppet. Such a good boy for not getting caught so far.

“Cum for me, boy,” I growled.

His head snapped back, his eyes closed, as he let out a long groan as he came all over the floor. Shaking, he collapsed on top of his own seed. Glistening with sweat, he breathed hard and tried to get himself together. I smiled as I stepped back.

“Good boy,” caused his body to shiver and then relax. A small smile spread across his face.

One day, I would have my hands all over him again.

But not yet.


	3. The Watcher on the Walls

I wasn’t there to fight, only to observes. Pettiness, the involvement of a child, acting like children, it was all just a bad scene. A poor portrayal of their values and beliefs. Brother against brother. Sister against sister. Lover against lover. Friend against friend. You would think this would show their true colors, but it really didn’t. This Steve Rogers, fighting so hard to protect his lost friend. Sam Wilson, helping because of Steve. It did not matter why they were fighting, it only mattered that they were trying to protect my property. They would all find their rewards one way or another, in the long run. As for the enemy…not all would suffer my wrath. The child, the Spider-man would be free. Only a child brought into a fight he could have no knowledge or understanding of.

I followed their fight, watching and walking. Kneeling next to my dear soldier as he was pinned to the ground. Poor boy, intervening would only teach him to be dependent on my actions. As much as I would love for me to see me, to know I was there, to call out for my help, I could not have my soldier looking to me for every order, every permission. He had allies now, allies that he could use, allies that I could use. I would let him rely on them, gain their trust, trust them, solidify brotherhood. He would be my gateway to them when I would deicide to finally step forward.

Ingenious, these new allies of his were. A man who could grow small and big, fighting for some reason or another. A previous connection? A moment to work along side the great Captain America? It did not matter. This nobody would become somebody. And then there was this girl…this Scarlet Witch. This child of experiments and tragedy, fighting so hard to protect herself. But her heart stays clouded. Her love for Vision, her fear of her own power. I had seen the news footage. It was an accident, a mishap that was a better outcome than anything else. She had tried to save everyone. She had failed and the world never really cared about who had tried to do the right thing, they only cared about who did the right thing.

As for me, it didn’t matter who was trying to do the right thing here. They were fighting for me, for my property, and therefore they would be the ones to win this confrontation.

This Black Widow, heart also muddled.

“You helped find them,” I whispered into her ear, “that was what you had promised. You’re done helping now. You know where your true loyalties lie, you know who your true friends are.”

And that’s all it took for her. A strange one, she was. Eyes would be kept on her.

Eyes would be kept on all of them.

 

It’s that I didn’t want to intervene. Didn’t want to make it all stop the moment that video was played. Didn’t want to whisk my dear soldier away the moment that Tony Stark turned his eyes towards him. But this was not my fight. This was for my soldier to see how others would view him, even though he had no control over his actions. To be reminded that the world would not care if they knew that he was brainwashed. He had done terrible things and, in their minds, he was nothing but a terrible man. I would let this fight happen, I would let him fight and fight and fight. I would let the Iron Man throw him and hurt him. There were only a few that cared about him, after all. Only a very few.

I did not do nothing, however. I made sure that the falling debris did not trap him, did not hurt him. I cushioned the blows where I could. Gave him the strength and the will to keep going. I connected him with the good Captain America to let them fight on, fight together. And when that Mr. Stark managed to blow off my dear soldier’s arm, I whispered into that captain’s ear.

“Revenge,” I hummed. “Pain that he has caused. Fight him. Maim him. End him. Kill him.”

Desperation. Pain. Hurt. Agony. Rage. Channeled through the dear captain to the brim. He would keep fighting no matter what. He would hurt the man that hurt his friend. He would bring him down.

“You can’t lose,” I growled into his ear as Iron Man gained the upper hand. “You must win. Fight. Main. Destroy. Kill.”

But what he did not do was kill. This Steve Rogers still had a will of his own and an ability to do what he thought was right. He did not kill Tony Stark, but he did damage him. He left the man there with his father’s shield and took my soldier away.


	4. Chapter 4

T’Challa did not earn my trust, but he did earn his life. Offering to harbor my soldier along with the others is what saved him. As for those others, as capable as the good Captain America is, I did not want him away from his charge for too long. His break out plan went as it should have gone, swift, clean, and quick. As little bumps as possible to keep it believable. And then they were all together again. All there under the same roof. All there too keep my soldier safe. That might not have been their intentions, but it would be.

They would protect my property, protect the man frozen in time once again. In such a facility as this, no doubt it would be a while for anyone to come looking. And a longer time still before anyone could breech the walls. An international incident at best, destruction and annihilation at worst.

I stood in front of the container that held my dear soldier boy. His face, so smooth and content. Not afraid, but at peace. A comfort in a belief that he will be able to awake to a world where his mind could be freed from the grasp of Hydra and those who claimed alliance. I could watch him for as long as that took, never moving from this spot, never taking my eyes off of him. Us two alone in a world that would keep moving forward.

What would it be like for him to awake and see me? To have me be the first thing he sees? Would I fill his head with dreams and wonders of me? Bring forth the memories that we shared? Or would I steel my resolve and continue to wait for him to come to me again? Only whisper in his ear when I needed in order to keep him alive.

Or…

Or a different tactic.

 

“Who are you?”

I turned to see him. Bloody Captain fucking American. The one whose love for this man was on its way to rivaling my own. It was a different sensation to look at someone and know they could see you. He had changed since the last time I had seen him. Chiseled features flecked with scars. A beard blooming on his chin. He was tense, unsure of who I was. Unsure of what I was doing here. No doubt there was confusion about how I had even managed to get this far without alerting anyone.

I looked back to the Winter Soldier and didn’t respond, but I let my gaze soften. I let the man see the emotion on my face, see the pain and love. I let him know that I wasn’t planning any harm.

When the silence dragged on for longer than he wanted, the star spangled man asked again. “Who are you?”

“I’m the Winter Soldier’s partner.”


End file.
